Post 5: untitled 2, art by JoshikageKijo, fic by CanvasRose

[fandomonymous]

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It was a quiet summer afternoon, maybe the quietest that Morioh had ever seen. Naturally, that wasn’t meant to last.
Josuke sighed loudly letting the book he was reading fall to cover his face. It had been a good day, he had met Koichi and Okuyasu for ice cream and they had gone outside of town to enjoy the day. It would have been a perfect day if he hadn’t had to help Rohan.
It wasn’t that he didn’t get paid; the older man actually paid him more than any job he could have gotten at his age, perfect for a young adult trying to make it through police academy. It wasn’t even like he could complain in the first place, the work was rarely hard. Rohan usually just had him run errands or clean, once in a long while he would have to hold a pose spontaneously. It wasn’t uncommon for Josuke to spend most of his “shift” lying on one couch or another reading one of Rohan’s numerous books.
Tonight, however, had been unusually quiet. No arguments or snappy retorts from either side. In fact Rohan hadn’t said a word since Josuke had arrived. It had been maddeningly quiet all night and Rohan didn’t seem to have anything that he needed doing on that particularly quiet night. And that was driving Josuke crazy.
“Hey, Josuke,” Josuke flinched; he hadn’t expected Rohan to break the silence.
“Um, yes?” He peered over the arm of the classic looking sofa he was currently lounging on.
“Let’s play a game.” He replied still not bothering to turn around.
“A game?” Josuke raised an eyebrow at the enigmatic request. He found it especially odd considering their last game had ended the artist temporarily homeless.
“Poker.”
“Poker?” Josuke replied flatly, “Now I know you’re joking.”
“What’s wrong with poker, I have a deck of cards in the cabinet in the front hall.”
“Well,” Josuke paused, what was wrong with poker? He started again,” I guess it’s alright, but I don’t want to bet cash right now.”
“We could always bet from you salary this week.”
“Come on Rohan, don’t joke like that, you know why I need that money.”
“How about betting your cloths then?”
“Rohan!”
“Fine, fine.”
Josuke looked at his young employer, he seemed a little disappointed. He groaned quietly resting his head in his hands, why did he have to feel bad for Rohan.
“Fine, you win,” He muttered between his hands, “We’ll play a few rounds, but-“
Josuke had meant to say that he was leaving afterward, but when he had looked back Rohan had pushed his chair directly next to the couch. When Josuke had moved his head their noses were almost touching. Josuke swallowed hard trying to suppress the flush he could feel coming on.
“Three rounds,” Rohan replied flatly, his eyes were piercing and it took more effort than Josuke would discuss with anyone afterward not to look away, “the loser has to do what the winner says for the rest of your shift.”
Josuke raised an eyebrow. Rohan was planning something, but before Josuke could confront his enigmatic boss, the other man had gone into the other room to fetch the cards.
Josuke sat dumb founded for a moment. As his heart returned to its normal pace…Normal pace? He hadn’t realized, but his heart was betting so fast he could have just finished running a marathon. There was nothing normal about this game or about Rohan’s rules. Josuke stared after Rohan, the artist was up to something and Josuke was sure he wouldn’t like it.
He looked at the clock on the wall, he couldn’t be sure how much time had actually passed, but he was sure that it had been more than a minute. Had he heard footsteps on the stairs? He dismissed the thought immediately. Even if Rohan hadn’t stayed in the hallway, it could just as easily be that he hadn’t found the cards where he had originally expected. Besides, it was the other young man’s house and hardly a place where he had to report his actions to anyone else and especially not a man who was four years his junior.
He looked back at the clock again. It had been just over three minutes since he last looked. What was keeping Rohan?
Just as Josuke was beginning to consider enemy stand users and foul play, Rohan returned with a pack of cards in one hand and a set of chips in the other.
“Sorry for the wait,” Rohan answered the quizzical look Josuke was throwing his way, “I use this deck fairly frequently, but I rarely use these chips. I forgot where I stored them.”
Josuke raised an eyebrow. Rohan was a very meticulous person, the idea of him forgetting anything seem impossible to Josuke. He briefly considered bringing this up with Rohan, but then thought better of it. It wasn’t worth the trouble it could cause with Rohan. And even if the other man was in a good enough mood to give him an answer it would be cryptic and more trouble than it was worth to decipher. He let it go with a sigh, just thinking about it made him tired.
His attention shifted across the small coffee table to Rohan as the older man broke the silence to shuffle the cards. Although the sound was a soft rustling, the way it cut through the silence of the room made it seem impossibly loud and impossibly foreboding.
Josuke sat up a little straighter as Rohan began to deal. Five, four, three, two, one. Josuke picked up his cards, surveying them quietly. Two pair, tens and fours, not the worst hand he could get, but it also was not impossible that Rohan had been dealt a better hand.
Rohan began to pass out twelve chips. Josuke shot him another incredulous glance.
“Did Jotaro ever tell you about his journey to Egypt?” Rohan inquired as if he hadn’t noticed the look Josuke had been giving him. This only baffled Josuke further. Why was Rohan asking him this? He talked to Jotaro very frequently and he had briefly been exposed to stories of his relative’s past, but he was having a hard time imagining what relevance his struggles could have to a simple game of poker.
Rohan was staring rather intently at him; Josuke felt his ears burning a little. He hadn’t realized that he had been so lost in thought.
“I’ve been told some things, but I’m sure that you know something I don’t if you’re asking.” Josuke replied finally, focusing his attention awkwardly on the scenery outside one of the expansive windows.
“It was in 1989, if I remember correctly, in a small café between Aswan and Cairo, Jotaro and his companions came across a rather dangerous stand user. He was a gambler who would steal the souls of those he defeated in different games of chance. Jotaro defeated him in two rounds.”
“Two rounds?” Josuke was taken aback, “but how? What did he do?”
“Mr. Kujo is a fairly intelligent stand user,” Rohan retorted enigmatically, a small smile turning his mouth, “but if you want to details, I would ask him yourself. I doubt I could do his story justice.”
Josuke opened his mouth to retort, but deciding it was futile replied instead, “Fine, but why only twelve chips?”
“It’s a short game Josuke,” Rohan retorted finally looking at his hand, “Whoever has the most chips at the end of the third round will be the winner. Although,” He peered over his cards pointedly, “should you lose all of your chips before that you’ll lose automatically.”
Josuke swallowed hard. Why had the older man’s words chilled him to the bone? Suddenly Josuke felt like there was more on the line than just his pride.
“Shall we?” The other man gave a small smile.
Josuke couldn’t help, but feel that everything was going according to Rohan’s plan. He glanced at his chips. Two pair was hardly a hand to go for the kill with and Rohan wasn’t the type to be spooked easily.
Rohan threw in two chips. Josuke did the same. The tension in the air was palpable. Rohan threw in another two chips. Josuke paused. He surveyed Rohan’s features quietly. The other man was staring back. Josuke looked back to his hand embarrassed.
What was Rohan’s game? He was almost impossible to read. Josuke scanned his hand intently. Rohan seemed confident in whatever was in his hand. Josuke thought for a moment longer, it was early enough that he could take risks, but he also didn’t want to fall so far behind that he couldn’t catch up.
“Check,” he stated.
Both young men placed their hands face up on the table. Rohan had three of a kind. The mangaka slid his winnings out of the middle of the table. Both players passed their cards back into the deck.
Josuke began to shuffle. He was already behind, but he could easily win back two chips. At least, he thought he could, but the frigid chill running up the back of his neck was making him feel otherwise.
He began to deal the new hands. One, two, three, four, five. He looked at his cards again. A flush, it took everything he had not to grin. A flush was the fourth best hand in the game. The odds were definitely in his favor.
Rohan discarded two cards. Josuke dealt him two new ones. Josuke couldn’t help but think that Rohan had a bad hand. Josuke bet three chips, enough to get in the lead, but not enough to scare Rohan off. He was going to have to milk this hand if he was going to win. The mangaka matched his bet. Good, now to keep it going. Josuke added two more chips, Rohan did the same.
They revealed their hands and Rohan had gotten four of a kind. Josuke was stunned; he had lost half of his chips in one round. As much as he hated to admit it he had lost. Even if he could win chips back he still wouldn’t match Rohan.
“I lose,” he conceded almost so quietly that the steady tick of the clock drowned him out.
“What was that?” Rohan asked his face blank.
“I said,” Josuke swallowed hard, “I lose.”
Rohan’s face was unreadable, “you know the deal, what’s done is done.”
“Just get it over with,” Josuke groaned.
“Fine,” Upstairs in the hall closet there is a box. It’s a clothing store box, pretty thin, but long and wide. Go get it and bring it down here.”
“That’s it?” Josuke inquired thoroughly confused now.
“No,” Rohan retorted, “that’s the first step, but nothing else will get done until you get the box. Now go.”
Josuke stepped into the hallway overwhelmed with relief then hesitated. Now that he was in the hallway something felt very wrong. What Rohan had said, what he had to do next, it had all been very specific, but vague in intent. Why a box? What was inside that it was so important? And why did Josuke feel that it had much more to do with him than he cared to find out?
What he wanted to do was go back. He wanted to ask what a box had to do with losing a bet. He wanted to clear the uneasy feeling in his gut. He wanted to run from the young mangaka’s expansive home. He wanted all of these things, but he had no idea why.
Damn it! He spat inwardly, this was no time to get cold feet and he never went back on his word. It was a box not a demon. He had gone toe to toe with much harder foes than what he could only assume was a shoe box. He had looked a serial killer in the eye without flinching for that matter. Whatever Rohan had cooked up couldn’t be half as bad as any of the events he had faced barely two years ago.
Then what was this chill settling in his gut? It was an unusually hot day, but suddenly it felt cold. Josuke took his first step onto the stairway. He had wasted too much time already, it was better to just get this over with.
The stairs felt impossible long as he slowly ascended and he could feel his own pulse by the time he reached the top. He found the hall closet easily enough. It was a tall thin door set in between the upstairs bathroom and a modest guest bedroom.
Josuke opened the door. The closet was fairly standard, a few towels, some spare sheets, two pillows tucked neatly to one side, a first aid kit and a long, thin clothing box tucked away on the top shelf. He reached up and gingerly took the edge of the box.
It was very light; he shook it slightly trying to assess its contents. There was a slight rustle, was it fabric or paper? It was hard to say. He sat for a moment, wondering if he should check inside. Rohan had never instructed him not to, but as that thought occurred to him another thought did as well. What if Rohan had put pages from his comic into this innocent looking box?
Josuke had always been careful not to look at the originals to Rohan’s work and Rohan had never pressured him to. The older man wouldn’t do something like that, would he?
Something twisted inside of Josuke at the thought. Even if he had never thought on it before, he was growing fond of his time spent with Rohan. They weren’t what he would call friends, but it had become an enjoyable companionship for him. But maybe Rohan didn’t see it that way and for some reason that hurt.
He carried the mystery box down the stairs, all tension gone replaced by this heavy feeling. Josuke kept telling himself he didn’t care, he had known taking this job how Rohan was. And yet, he couldn’t keep his chin up. He felt oddly detached as he entered the sitting room.
Rohan was back in his chair now, addressing some of his work to where ever his editor was. The young mangaka had once told Josuke where that was, but it was a place in Tokyo that he didn’t know and he had forgotten.
“Was it that hard to find?” Rohan asked. Josuke could swear he heard some hint of concern in the other man’s voice, but immediately dismissed it. He was being too optimistic. If anything, Rohan was teasing him for his tardiness, but he hardly had it in him to formulate some snappy retort.
Instead he replied, “It was where you said it would be. I just…had other things on my mind.”
Rohan looked intently at him and Josuke could almost feel him pressing for more information with his stare, but then Rohan slid his chair back and stood, saying nothing. He instead motioned to the box, “Did you look inside?”
“No, I didn’t,” Josuke replied simply, his mood unchanging.
“Open it,” Rohan said flatly, still watching Josuke intently.
Josuke did as he was told only to find himself immensely taken aback. Inside the box, sitting neatly atop the delicate, folded tissue paper, was a tan plaid, pleated skirt.
The high school student tried to form some sort of question, but nothing came out. He was far to confused to be embarrassed as his mouth flapped uselessly as he repeatedly tried to find the most appropriate response to this oddity.
Before he could come up with a statement to properly express his befuddling Rohan flatly asserted, “Put it on.”
“WHAT!?” Josuke couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He could feel not only his ears burning this time; he could feel heat creeping across his cheeks. “You can’t be-“
“Whatever I say Josuke,” Rohan interrupted, his face was unreadable, “that was the deal.”
Josuke opened his mouth to protest, but, realizing the futility of protesting, he instead asked, “Is there at least a place that I can change?”
“The hall bathroom should work,” Rohan replied easily, “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
Josuke fumbled for a good response, but, thinking of none groaned and excited Rohan’s study to change. Maybe Rohan was still mad about the gambling incident two years ago. Although, there was nothing he could do now.
Reaching the bathroom, he closed the door behind himself and removed the lid from the box again. Upon further inspection the skirt was actually yellow, with red and black forming the plaid, making it look more tan than it was. Lifting the skirt he actually found himself slightly relieved to find a sweater and white shirt. He may not have to wear this outside if he was lucky, but at the very least, the ensemble was in good taste.
He stripped down to his underwear, first putting on the shirt and sweater and then stepping into the skirt. He was a little embarrassed at the thought, but he couldn’t help noticing how comfortable the skirt was. Although, it was a little revealing for his taste.
After adjusting everything to the way it should be, left the bathroom, stopping at the door to Rohan’s study. He could feel his heart suddenly racing again. This time, however, he steeled himself thinking, “Let’s get this over with so I can forget the whole thing over a cold shower.”
He opened the door, feeling a familiar flush forming over his features as Rohan caught him in another unreadable gaze. The older man surveyed him for a moment and then motioned for Josuke to come over.
Josuke did so quietly, wondering how long this torture could go on. When he was just in front of Rohan, the other man stood quietly then circled the highschooler, analyzing the sight. Then he stopped just in front of Josuke and smiled enigmatically.
“It’s cute, I think it suits you,” Rohan’s nose was again almost touching Josuke’s.
Josuke wanted to scoff at the statement, but before he knew what was happening Rohan had practically fallen into his chair and taken Josuke with him. Josuke’s heart practically leaped into his throat. What was Rohan thinking? And better still why did part of him want to stay?
Before his thoughts went any further, Rohan pressed his lips gently to Josuke’s and everything clicked into place. Everything suddenly made so much sense, he had fallen for Rohan.
The other man broke the kiss, searching Josuke’s eyes, looking for a sign. Josuke didn’t make him wait long; he smothered the other man in heated kiss. His tongue meeting the others with enthusiasm.
When they eventually broke apart, Rohan smiled smugly, “That’s been a long time coming.”
Josuke floundered with the thought again, “Rohan, how long?”
“I realized there might have been something about a month ago. I just wanted to be good and sure.”
“You knew for a whole month and you didn’t at least ask how I felt,” Josuke asked exasperated. Rohan could be such a brat sometimes.
“Well, I didn’t want you to blow it off as a joke,” He smirked slightly and continued, “That and I owed you one for the last time we gambled.”
“I knew it,” Josuke groaned.
“Consider us even,” Rohan smiled genuinely then said, “You look cute in the skirt though, I think you should wear it more often.”
Josuke couldn’t help, but chuckle. The two dissolved into quiet relieved laughter. They might never be friends, but they were now something better.